A New Kind of Chemistry
by who-lock-loki-lover
Summary: Short, but pretty cute! : Sherlock attempts to put his feelings for John into words the only way he knows how. Includes some subtle parallelism and repetition of motifs, which I think makes it a little more sentimental.


Morning light streamed through the curtains, illuminating the abode. Two flatmates sat in the sitting room over a cup of tea, as they would on any normal morning. Sherlock's cup had gone cold and untouched. While John leafed absent-mindedly through the morning paper, Sherlock ruminated in the deepest of thoughts.

Finally, he rested his head in his hands and cursed.

"Alright?" John asked him, looking up from the broadsheet.

Sherlock searched the air for answers. "Oh, god, John. It's- How do I put this into layman's terms?"

John waited patiently. He was getting good at ignoring Sherlock's unconscious put-downs.

"There's a cliché that would explain what I'm thinking, but I can't recall it," he closed his eyes and placed his palms together in deep thought. This sort of thing wasn't easy for him. People often struggle to convey their emotions, but for Sherlock Holmes it was seemingly impossible. He forced out his words with difficulty. "It's like something is happening inside me. A chemical reaction, bubbling up and disturbing my consciousness. It changes how I think and feel. It changes my emotions and… it feels good, in a way." He shook his head, frustrated by his ineloquence. "The trouble is that you are the catalyst, John!"

The army doctor stared back blankly. Only a man like Sherlock Holmes could think these to be _layman's terms_. "What are you on about?"

"Chemicals! In me! Because of you!"

John stared, still confused. "Alright... don't lose your head, now. You'll have to be a little clearer because you're not making sense. You know more about chemistry than I do. I'm 'practically a novice,' remember?" He only said it to flatter Sherlock's ego. The man was could get so delicate when he felt his intelligence being threatened.

"So am I. I'm a complete novice! When it comes to this kind of chemistry, at least…." He trailed off, annoyed with this ineptitude, and gripped his head. "You don't understand how this feels!"

John pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "Do you think you've been drugged? I'm not a chemist, but I am a doctor, sol I may be able to help. I'll check you out if you think it might help."

"Ah- Erm… yes, I suppose it may help for you to check me out." Sherlock found John's offer unusually direct, but at least it was progress. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Alright, come here and let me look at you." John sat beside Sherlock and took his pulse. Sherlock felt his heart beat harder as John's hand wrapped around his pale wrist. He swallowed back his nervousness. _Surely, John will understand now. How could he not? He can't possibly be that dense. Isn't it obvious? _Sherlock watched the doctor nervously.

"Okay, let me have a look at your eyes now." John tilted Sherlock's head slightly closer for a better view. The detective felt weak having the doctor's strong hand on his face. The color drained from his face. John's skin felt so warm. The touch was perfection. He had to fight hard not to swoon, but when John left his cheek, Sherlock missed it immensely.

"Well, your heart's accelerated and your pupils are dilated a bit, but other than that I don't see anything wrong. No sign of drugs or a chemical imbalance. It's probably just something to do with your adrenaline or dopamine... nothing abnormal. Beyond that I can't say any more."

Sherlock tried not to look taken aback. "You have nothing to say about it?"

"Well, what should I say? There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling. It's natural." He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with the chemistry."

"So you agree, then?"

"Agree with what?"

"That we have chemistry?" Sherlock asked, getting excited. "And the catalyst is you!"

"Wait… we?"

"Yes! There is chemistry between us! That's what I've been trying to say!"

"I don't- Wait…" John looked up at Sherlock again, trying to figure out how to respond. "You mean…."

"Yes!" Sherlock was nearly jumping out of skin in joyful relief. "Oh, god, I'm so glad that's out of me. I've been thinking it for so long and trying to work out the meaning. Always there, in the back of my mind, taunting me with what it might mean. This is good. This is very good. Such a relief! God, now, I can finally-" Sherlock's rambling was interrupted when John pressed his lips gently against his sweet detective's. The two of them stayed suspended in time for a few beautiful moments, before John pulled back and looked into Sherlock's eyes. John's face was serene and affectionate, but Sherlock's expression was one of enlivened shock.

Sherlock stared at John in glorious disbelief and reminded himself to keep breathing. Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned his forehead against John's, closing his eyes in silent gratitude. He wrapped his arms around John and held back tears of joy.

"J-John," he whispered.

"I know, Sherlock," John said with an understanding smile. "I know."


End file.
